


Pavlov's Bell

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Highlander: The Raven, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Immortal Violence, Immortal Women, Immortals, Minor Character(s), Quickening, Quickening Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-20
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ceirdwyn, 24 hours, and what happens when she walks into a bar in Paris, looking for Amanda....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pavlov's Bell

**Author's Note:**

> The Highlander characters and concepts are still not mine after all these years; they belong to Panzer/Davis. I'm still playing with them anyway. Many thanks go to Rhi for sending me lyrics when I needed some inspiration. Thanks to Nevada and Rhi for the beta. Thanks also to Dragon for the sword fighting help, and to shrewreader, for the encouragement.

_February 2006_

Ceirdwyn stepped into the club, only mildly amused by the carvings of Dionysus on the heavy, wood paneled doors and the feel of holy ground underneath her feet. _Someone wasn't taking any chances_, she thought. _Amanda, who has you running scared this time?_ The thought of Amanda in such trouble that she was hiding out on holy ground dimmed Ceirdwyn’s pleasure and she wondered if she’d find out the truth when they met, or if Ceirdwyn was going to have to draw it out of her.

The hostess station was not staffed as Ceirdwyn took a moment to take in the eclectic, but strongly modern, almost masculine, décor. She took off her navy pea coat, careful to arrange it so that the short sword hidden in its folds didn’t fall out.  Sultry jazz flowed from hidden speakers. From where the Iceni woman stood, she could see small tables, a large, well-stocked, mirror-backed bar, and an open dance floor. She waited a moment, wondering if someone would show up, and then shrugged and headed for the bar.

“Hello?” she called out, taking a seat and draping her coat across the back of the high-backed, mahogany barstool next to hers. Out of long habit, she searched for the emergency exits just in case she needed them.  From her new vantage point, she could see a corner opposite the dance floor where two worn pool tables sat, almost hidden from the entrance by half a wall. A sign indicated that the restrooms were in that direction. TV monitors were placed at strategic locations throughout the bar and silently broadcast various sports games; a few even had closed-captioning turned on. A chessboard sat at the end of the highly polished bar to her right, its marble pieces in mid-move. The sight of the game caught her attention, making her wonder briefly who played it.

“Just a moment,” a male voice said from overhead, cutting into the jazz briefly.  She had a moment to wonder where the hidden cameras were, and how they were so well concealed that she hadn’t seen them.

Then she saw a tall, athletically built man stride out from a well-concealed sliding door in the wall to the right of the bar, carrying a case of liquor. The buzz of his immortality hit her just as the door opened, and she tensed automatically, her right hand reaching behind her head underneath her long black hair for the sword hilt she kept hidden underneath her shirt. Holy ground or not, she was not taking chances.

Still, he moved confidently forward, a sandy brown haired, clean-shaven Caucasian man with a high-boned face that was bisected by a strong nose. He appeared to be in his thirties or so. He was dressed in black jeans, a tooled leather belt, a loose green dress shirt, and hiking boots. He looked damned good in what he wore, and Ceirdwyn hastily swallowed the sudden surge of lust. _Now is not the time to be drooling over him, not if he isn’t going to honor holy ground! But damn, I like the way he looks!_

He set the case of liquor down on the bar near where Ceirdwyn sat. “Hope you’re looking for a drink, not a fight,” he greeted her in French. “This club is dedicated to the god of wine. If you don’t know what the hell that means, get the fuck out now. I’m Nick Wolfe, your bartender today. What can I get you?”

“White wine, whatever’s the house preference,” she requested, relaxing somewhat at his words. Her hand came off her sword hilt and through her long black hair, sweeping the ends forward across her shoulder as if that had been her intention all along.

Nick’s expression told her he wasn’t fooled, but he made no comment. Mentally, she gave him points for his observational skills. She’d always liked that in a man. Deftly, he reached for a bottle underneath the counter and poured her a glass of wine.  “Welcome to Sanctuary. So what brings you to my bar today? Not that I’m minding the company of a beautiful woman on such a blustery February day.”

“I was looking for Amanda. I’m Ceirdwyn, an old friend of hers.” She noted the easy charm, and yet it still felt genuine to her.

“Ah, yes,” he said and slid the glass towards her. “And did you ever dress a bonny prince in drag?”

Ceirdwyn chuckled at the memory, even as she applauded Nick’s caution. _Who is he to Amanda?_ “Is this your way of making sure I’m exactly who I say I am?”

Nick smiled tightly. “You wouldn’t be the first to claim otherwise.”

_Suspicious, but friendly enough, _Ceirdwyn thought. _Then again, if he’s met a lot of Amanda’s friends, I’d be wary, too._ “I also helped Amanda convince a couple of German soldiers we needed to know how to fly. Gerhard was very upset that we wouldn’t sleep with him and Hans until they taught us, or did she not mention that?”

Now Nick relaxed. “Griped about how you couldn’t seem to get the hang of the controls fast enough.” He smiled and his good humor was reflected in his deep-set blue-green eyes. “Do you mind speaking English instead of French? I start talking about anything related to Amanda and I lose my ability to think straight in anything other than English.”

Easily, Ceirdwyn switched languages.  “Not at all. Is there something wrong with Amanda?” she asked, frowning in concern. _Was life so bad that Amanda was using another immortal to run interference for her?_

Nick chuckled and waved off Ceirdwyn’s concern. “She’s running late. She had a meeting with her lawyer and he had an appointment before her that ran over.” Using a pocketknife he took off his belt, he proceeded to slice open the box he’d brought from the back and deftly restocked the cabinet above the bar. “She asked me to make sure you didn’t think she was ignoring you.” He grinned now as he shoved the box aside to lounge against the counter, and the wicked humor went all the way to his eyes. “Or trying to avoid you deliberately. Which, I’m sure you know, would not be out of character for her.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” she agreed, taking a sip of the surprisingly not-too-sweet, not-too-dry wine. “Is everything all right with her otherwise?”

“Well, as much as all right can be for Amanda.” He shrugged casually. “Other than the occasional friend who wants to know how she managed to steal his credit cards again, no one’s been after her. Well, the police, of course, but when haven’t they wanted her?” He chuckled softly. “I keep telling her, if Interpol ever gets its act together with technology, she’s going to be in trouble.”

Ceirdwyn considered Nick’s words and the amused tone of voice. “I take it you’ve known her a while?”

Nick nodded as he put away the pocketknife, and then propped one arm on the bar while leaning against the edge. He managed to make the pose look almost boneless while still appearing to be interested in her. The way he lounged was giving her far too many ideas about his flexibility, along with the urge to pull his shirt out further from where it had ridden up when he’d reached up to put the last two bottles away. Though her fingers itched to touch his skin, she settled for drinking more wine instead, wanting to hear Nick’s answer.

“Almost eight years now. I met her back when I was still a cop and didn’t know anything about immortality. She turned my life upside down and changed everything I’d ever known. Now I help her run this bar and hope she stays out of trouble.”

Ceirdwyn looked at him and frowned. “Isn’t that like trying to win a lottery?”

“Some days, yes. I think the police are convinced I know everything about her activities and refuse to say, so now it’s ‘Monsieur Wolfe, you know nothing and will not say, so will you please not waste our time and let us know if you decide to cooperate?’” He sounded highly amused and much more comfortable with Amanda than Ceirdwyn would have expected for a former officer of the law.

Intrigued by Nick’s manner and by the idea that Amanda would have a former policeman as her business partner, Ceirdwyn leaned forward.  “I can imagine,” she remarked, remembering Amanda’s penchant for trouble. Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “You said you were a police officer? Did you actually try to arrest her?”

“She was my main suspect in a string of thefts back in the States. Couldn’t prove a damn thing other than we found each other attractive.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “To make a long story short, I left the force, tried to ignore her, kept running into her, decided I was better off doing something less dangerous, and still couldn’t stop finding her in my life.” He took a deep breath, and then said flatly, “Then she shot me.”

“She shot you?” Ceirdwyn couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and yet it sounded like something Amanda might do.

“She figured it was better than me dying of poison.”

The older immortal winced. _Now I understand why Amanda didn’t mention him to me,_ Ceirdwyn thought. _She’d have to tell the whole story before I believed it. _“Unfortunately, knowing Amanda as I do, I can see her logic in that. Mind you, I don’t always agree with the way she thinks. So she’s your teacher?”

“She was, for a while.” He shrugged, clearly comfortable with the past. “Not at first, though. I had to get through the shock of her shooting me first, and I probably would’ve taken her head if she’d come near me back then,” he clarified, his voice wry.

_Can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted to do the same,_ Ceirdwyn thought, _if that had happened to me._ She shook her head at Nick’s words. “I imagine Amanda thought you’d be grateful you were alive.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I was, but it took a while. I wouldn’t trade the life I have now for being dead.”

Ceirdwyn nodded. “I know the feeling.”

Leaning forward, Nick asked with interest, “So how did you meet Amanda?”

Ceirdwyn smiled, remembering. “We were both on our way elsewhere when we happened to stop by the same out-of-nowhere inn in this tiny town.” She glanced down at her glass, and for a moment, saw the stein of the glass she’d drunk out of that night. To ground herself in the here and now, she deliberately took a sip of wine. The wine didn’t taste like the beer she remembered, and she savored the flavor before continuing. “Innkeeper’s wife went into labor and Amanda and I were the only other women around and awake that time of night. We were drafted as midwives. Then we almost got run out of town because the woman had twins. Apparently, the innkeeper thought twins meant they were going to be cursed.”

“How long ago was that?”

“1210. First time Amanda had ever helped anyone give birth; I thought she was going to run screaming.  There was so much blood, and it wasn’t an easy birth.”

Just then, the phone at the bar rang. “_Le Sanctuaire, ceci est Nick, comment je peut vous aider?_” Nick answered. “Yes, she’s here. Do you want to talk to her? Amanda! She’s right here waiting. Yes, damn it.” He sounded annoyed, but he listened for a minute or two longer. Resignation showed on his face. “Yes, yes, all right. Okay. I’ll tell her.” He hung up the phone. “She ran into Duncan MacLeod and she’ll be late.” Wryly, Nick added, “As in, she probably won’t show.”

Ceirdwyn chuckled. “I understand. I know Duncan can be…quite distracting.” She hesitated. She’d come here to meet with Amanda, catch up on gossip, find out what her old friend had been doing lately, and look for an antidote for the boredom and some of the loneliness she’d been feeling lately. She’d been out of touch, having spent the last several years in Venice, and had run into Amanda at a café earlier in the week. Meeting Nick, who seemed perfectly happy to keep her company, was a pleasant surprise. Moreover, he was attractive, intelligent, and intriguing. It wasn’t often that she had such an intense reaction to a man she’d just met, much less another immortal, but there was something about him that made her want to know more about him. Desire, long kept under wraps, curled through her. “Am I keeping you from doing something else?” She reached for his hand across the bar and looked at him deliberately.

He glanced down at her hand, looked up at her, and then answered carefully, “No, it’s usually slow this time of the day. It really doesn’t get going until the after-work crowd starts showing up.” He met her gaze for a long moment as attraction sparked between them. He then checked his watch. “Philippe, my assistant manager, will take over from me in hour and a half. Would you like me to join you at a table?”

“I’d like that,” Ceirdwyn admitted. “More wine, please?”

In reply, Nick took her glass, another glass, and the bottle and moved over to a table near the bar. He set the glasses and the bottle down before pulling out a chair for Ceirdwyn and then seating himself. The courtesy surprised and charmed her. He then topped off Ceirdwyn’s glass before pouring some for himself, saying, “I don’t meet very many of Amanda’s female friends. Usually it’s some guy looking to ‘talk’ to Amanda about something she did, although there have been a few women.”

Ceirdwyn sipped the wine. “Well, Amanda has a way of irritating people and skipping town, so I’m not surprised you’ve met more people who want to discuss their annoyances with her. I’ve been exasperated with her a time or two myself.” She shrugged. “There aren’t that many female immortals I want to spend time with; several of the ones I cared the most about are dead. Amanda’s one of the few still around.” She took another sip of wine before changing the subject, as she was less interested in Amanda than Nick at the moment. “So how did an American ex-cop end up running a bar in Paris?”

“I’m just trying to make an honest living.”

“And the fact that the bar is on holy ground is a happy coincidence?”

“You might call it that, yeah,” Nick agreed, nodding. He leaned in intently. “Amanda acquired the bar. My boss at the time thought it would be a good idea to invest in the property with her, and then sold his share to me when he realized he wanted to do other things. At the time, I had no idea it was holy ground, didn’t care. All I cared about was that it came with a furnished apartment above the club and I could stop living out of hotels, maybe try my hand at something different.” Nick drank some wine, and then sighed. “I had no idea that Amanda thought if we both lived here, I might be safer.”

“Safer? From what?” Ceirdwyn’s curiosity was aroused. She liked what she saw so far, but then, Amanda never picked uninteresting – or ugly – men. _Who is Nick to make Amanda want to keep him safe? Former lawman, business partner, young, handsome, immortal, charming and intelligent – did you fall in love with him, Amanda? And why is he intriguing me so? It’s not like I’ve never met a handsome man before, but meeting Nick feels different from anyone else I’ve met in a very long time._

Nick looked at her a long moment, apparently measuring her worth. What he saw in her apparently passed muster, but Ceirdwyn was left with the distinct impression that he’d once used that same stare to successfully intimidate criminals. The tactic amused her and reminded her of one of her own students, even as it deepened her curiosity. “How long have you been out of Paris?” he asked finally.

“Let’s see, it’s what, 2006 now? I left for Venice in 1996. I’ve been back in Paris a month and half now.”

“Then you don’t know what happened here while you were gone. I didn’t find out some of this myself until later, mind you, when I got mad enough to demand some answers.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words, and then sipped wine before he continued.  “Amanda told me 1997 was the year the great Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander, Mr. ‘Most Favored to Win the Prize,’ vanished to some monastery.” His hands emphasized his words as Ceirdwyn propped her chin in one hand, listening intently. “I’d never heard of him before, so that meant absolutely nothing to me until she explained that with him on holy ground, the job of protecting the world from evil fell to everyone else. Sounded pretty crazy, until I realized that was one of the reasons she did what she did then.

“That fall and through the following year, Amanda had old lovers, old friends and old enemies crawling out of the woodwork. I was almost convinced the Gathering was close at hand except it kept being too damned personal for Amanda, and for me.”

“The Gathering hasn’t happened yet, and I’m not entirely certain it will. There are some years when it feels like the whole world is crashing in on itself, but that seems to come and go.” Ceirdwyn didn’t like the idea of the Gathering, but she’d long ago vowed to do her part to keep the world safe from others of her kind who meant it harm. What Nick was telling her so far didn’t sound unreasonable, but with Amanda involved, Ceirdwyn knew there was more to the story.

Nick nodded in response to her words. “You’d know – if you met Amanda in 1210, you’ve certainly been alive long enough to have seen a few things come and go. I know just from the years I’ve been here that there are weeks it seems like the entire immortal population of the world is in Paris – and in this bar. But back in ’97, I had no idea what was going on other than I knew Amanda wasn’t something entirely human and that I wasn’t with the Torago PD any more.” He drained his glass and refilled it, then offered to top off Ceirdwyn’s.  She refused, as she still had half a glass left.

“You said you left the police force. What did you do? Surely if you were doing something else, you wouldn’t have been running into Amanda so much.” Ceirdwyn heard the remembered pain in Nick’s voice, and saw from his face how the memory still haunted him. In some ways, she wished she’d known what had been happening then sooner; she could have helped Amanda and Duncan, maybe even met Nick while he was still a pre-immortal and taken some pressure off Amanda.

“I’ve thought about that, and I’m not entirely sure I wouldn’t have been.” Nick lifted his shoulders in a near-shrug. “Some things just feel like…” he paused, gesturing with one hand as he tried to find the best analogy, and then clearly gave up “…like that’s the way it was supposed to happen. Anyway, all I was good at besides cop stuff was playing basketball and boxing. I was pretty happy when a friend of mine offered me a job at his security-consulting firm.”

“And what did you do there?”

“Bounty hunting, skip tracing, personal protection, that sort of thing.”

“So how did you run into Amanda doing that?” Ceirdwyn wanted to understand.

“Well, it seemed like some of the folks I was investigating were the same damned idiots who knew Amanda.”

Ceirdwyn shook her head at this revelation. _No wonder he hadn’t been able to get away from Amanda! _Her heart ached at the story so far.

Nick nodded at her reaction. “Then, too, at the time, I didn’t know I’d be immortal – Amanda kept that secret from me until it was almost too late. Those idiots would use me to get to Amanda, or something I’d do would cause Amanda to decide she needed to protect me. I kept telling her I’d been a cop, that I’d done some bounty hunting in my line of work, and I knew how to take care of myself, but…” Then he sighed and sipped wine. “I didn’t understand what Amanda was doing and every time I asked for answers, I didn’t get the ones I wanted to hear.

“You’re a very easy person to talk to, Ceirdwyn,” he abruptly complimented her. “I haven’t talked about this to anyone in years.”

Ceirdwyn smiled, flattered by his words. “Thank you. I know getting a straight answer out of Amanda’s not easy, but it sounds like it was worse than usual. Do you know why?”

Nick exhaled. “Yeah. It’s because we were both so crazy in love with each other that we couldn’t see straight.”

“So why didn’t you just tell her how you felt?”

“As much as I was in love with her, I was angry with her.” He shook his head at the memory. “I didn’t want to love her – she was a thief and a liar and everything I hadn’t known I’d wanted until I met her. I couldn’t say what I felt for fear that she’d walk out and it would be worse because I’d be alone. Plus, I blamed her for the way my life fell to pieces the moment she walked into it.”

“And was it her fault?” Ceirdwyn tried her best to keep a level tone, but she’d known Amanda far too long. Amanda would move mountains to keep her friends safe, even if it meant risking her life, but inevitably, Amanda’s plans didn’t go the way she’d planned them.

Nick half-shrugged, old pain in his eyes, and sipped his wine. “Felt like it at the time.” He hesitated again. “I’m not usually this open with friends of Amanda’s, but I feel like I can trust you. I don’t usually I feel that way about anyone she knows,” he admitted, sounding mildly surprised. “She sounded so excited about seeing you again, said that you were someone she admired. Did she not tell you about me?”

Ceirdwyn shook her head. She was flattered by his trust in her, even as she wondered just what else Amanda had told him about her. “Not a word, but then we only saw each other briefly, long enough to decide we need to spend time catching up. Why, did something happen I should know about?”

He looked at Ceirdwyn, then back down at his wine glass, before meeting her gaze. “My partner took a bullet meant for Amanda. Amanda got shot, too, but she got up, and my partner didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Nick. Sounds like a hell of way to discover that immortals exist,” Ceirdwyn said, wincing even as memories flashed through her mind of how she’d seen that truth revealed.

“There’s more. It got worse.  The bastard who shot them both was a cop who’d been stealing from Amanda and other thieves. Then my captain offered me a promotion in exchange for keeping shut about the crooked cop and how and why my partner died. I walked away from everything rather than take the promotion. Amanda found me in a bar, trying to drink away what I’d seen, what had all happened.”

Crooked cops were nothing new to her, nor was drinking in reaction to discovering that the world wasn’t exactly the way you though it was. She evaluated his words and then his voice, and coupled it with the fact that Amanda had been involved. She didn’t like her final sum. Ceirdwyn said slowly, “I take it she didn’t exactly explain everything as well as you would have liked.”

“Oh, so you know?”

“We were arrested once because the sheriff become impatient with her attempt at explanation and decided it was easier just to arrest us.” Ceirdwyn shook her head. “Spend any time with Amanda and you’ll either get arrested, blamed, nearly killed, or have to figure out where to hide something she’s acquired. Probably some combination of all the above.”

“I wish I’d met someone at the time who could have warned me about that. Of course, given how crazy I was about her then, I probably would have thought they were joking, or not telling me the whole truth.” Nick chuckled ruefully as he leaned forward, bracing his right forearm on the table. “I used to spend lot of time with a huge chip on my shoulder about her. My partner had two kids and a husband, and they all blamed me for Claudia’s death. It had been my choice to go after Amanda that night, but Claudia… Claudia stepped in front of Amanda to protect her. Finding out that Amanda could’ve taken that bullet and walked away intact, that there was such a thing as immortality, then all the shit with all of the old friends and lovers… I didn’t want any part of living forever. I couldn’t see how anyone could love someone and know they might have to someday face them in the Game.”

“Loving someone doesn’t mean that you’ll have to take their head some day.”

Nick shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “You couldn’t have made me believe that back then if you’d pounded it into my brain with a brick. All I knew was what I was seeing from being in Amanda’s life. It felt like I couldn’t turn around without running into some immortal whose head Amanda would have to take, just because I’d gotten involved.”

He dropped his gaze for a long moment, staring at his hands as if he’d been personally responsible for those deaths, and Ceirdwyn ached for him. She knew all too well what that felt like. “Amanda tried to tell me that it was part of the Game, that with Duncan gone, someone had to pick up some of the slack, but I kept feeling like I’d turned her into some kind of headhunter.” He looked back up at Ceirdwyn, and she was struck by the resignation in his face. “I used to investigate murders, took pride in locking up those bastards who’d kill other people, and there I was, learning to live with it as a weekly event.”

“Not all of us live that way.” She waited, wondering what his reaction would be.

“Thank God,” Nick declared, relieved. He smiled, and Ceirdwyn found herself returning his smile. He had a way of making her feel very comfortable, as if they’d known each other forever. “Running this bar, I’ve started to be able to tell which ones of us do, and who doesn’t. But back then?” He shook his head, as if remembering how he’d been, and chuckled softly. “I was beginning to see immortals – and death – everywhere. I felt like I was in the middle of a war zone, and I couldn’t imagine how Amanda lived with it. I certainly didn’t enjoy being in the middle of it, but I had this crazy notion that she needed protecting, that she needed me.”

“Oh, Nick,” Ceirdwyn said gently. “Women like Amanda and me don’t need knights in shining armor.”

“Oh, I know,” Nick replied, amused. “Hell, you two probably had a lot of fun helping a few of those guys out of their armor back in the day. Doesn’t change the fact that I’d been raised to protect women, or that being a cop had instilled that notion that much deeper.”

“And how did that work for you with Amanda?” Ceirdwyn wondered. She was beginning to enjoy his openness, and found herself wanting to know more.

He chuckled wryly. “Not very damn well at all, in hindsight. She ended up protecting me more than the other way around.

“The icing on the cake was having her trigger my immortality, knowing she could have done so at any time, when it would have been my choice….” He exhaled heavily. “Like I said, I was pretty angry with her for a long time. For every minute I wished she had shot me sooner, when we knew the poison wasn’t something that I was going to get over quickly, I found myself wishing I’d never met her at all.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s rare that anyone has a good introduction to immortality, but that just sounds like it was the completely insane version. Wait, you said poison? That wouldn’t have been Xavier St. Cloud, would it?”

Startled, Nick looked at her. “No, Duncan took care of St. Cloud. It was Evan Peyton.”

Ceirdwyn swore. “I’ve heard of him. Amanda told me he poisoned his parents.”

“That would be the one. Amanda took his head, but I had to shoot out the machine that he was using to create holographic images of himself before she could. Thought for damned sure that was going to be the last thing I ever did.” He sighed and drank some wine. “My teacher pointed out that if she hadn’t been around, I probably would have died in the line of duty not knowing what the hell happened, who to turn to, and what to do.”

“I certainly didn’t at first,” Ceirdwyn agreed. “I was found by one of the same damned Romans I’d been fighting against. He followed the smoke from the funeral pyres and I thought for sure he was going to make sure I stayed dead that time. He captured me as his slave.”

“Somehow,” Nick said, waving one hand at her to emphasize his point, “and granted, I don’t know you that well, I can’t see you being scared to die or being captured.”

She laughed. “No, I was furious.” She shook her head, remembering. “My entire village had been just wiped out, including my best friend who was pregnant, and here was this Roman I thought I’d killed, standing there, trying to tell me that I was going to live forever and that I needed a teacher, and oh by the way, I was now his servant?” Ceirdwyn leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine before continuing. “He let me stab him a half-dozen times, killing him, before he said ‘Enough’ and stabbed me. When I woke up, he asked me if I’d had enough of dying, and did I want to live? I kept telling him, ‘Just kill me’, and he said, ‘No, you haven’t answered me correctly yet,’ and he’d stab me again. When I finally got tired of dying, he told me the rest.”

“Oh, man,” Nick said sympathetically. “Did you take his head then?”

“No, because he had my trust. If all he’d wanted was death, he would have told me how to kill him right off. If all he’d wanted was my death, he would have done so.” At his look of confusion, she explained, “You have to remember, the definition of a friend was different back then. Anyone who didn’t kill you was someone you were more likely to trust.”

He considered this information as he sipped wine. “A Roman, huh? That would mean you’re older than Amanda. Sometime, I’d love to talk to you about ancient history. So are you still friends with your teacher?”

She smiled, enjoying the way he quickly figured out her approximate age and his attention to the details she’d provided him. “I like to think so. So what do you do when you’re not here?”

“Try to stay a million miles away from anything Amanda’s planning, as much as I can,” Nick admitted, leaning his head slightly against his right hand. “I spend a lot of time in cafés and movie theatres, devouring the worst of French cinema.”

“Tell me you didn’t see _Le Cage du Marie_,” Ceirdwyn demanded.

“Of course I did,” Nick told her, grinning wickedly. Ceirdwyn decided right then he ought to register that grin as a deadly weapon; it was making her throat dry and her pulse race. “Two-thirty pm show, last Tuesday, at the Maricoste.”

She swallowed wine and tried not to lose track of the conversation_. It’s not fair that he can turn me on with just a smile, that’s just so clichéd, but damn, _she thought_. _ _What were we talking about? Oh, yes, that stupid movie.  _“That was my date’s idea of a good movie last week. He walked out when I told him it was the worst film I’d ever seen. Of course, that’s what I get for letting my new assistant hook me up with her cousin. She was insistent that I meet someone new to go along with being back in town again. I think she thought I was exactly the 29 my driver’s license claims I am.”

Nick laughed. “If I didn’t know Amanda was at the Louvre, I’d have left, too. It was better if you could imagine it being used for _Mystery Science Theatre 3000_.”

“I’m not familiar with that,” she admitted. “Is that an American show?” At his nod, she continued, “I’ve not been in America in,” she thought for a minute, “forty years. I love Paris.”

“I miss the States sometimes,” Nick said. “But there’s not much there now for me.” He sounded mildly regretful. “I keep promising myself that when I take a vacation, I’m going to do some traveling. Running the bar keeps me busy, though.”

“Do you miss being a police officer?” Ceirdwyn asked.

Nick chuckled. “Not as much as I did the first year,” he admitted. “I couldn’t go back doing detective work now. I’m too associated with Amanda. As it is, I’m likely to get arrested on suspicion of aiding and abetting a known criminal, or some idiot excuse.” He shrugged. “Even if I wasn’t, it’s hard living on a cop’s salary. Owning the bar and splitting the profits with Amanda pays better. It’s less dangerous, too.”

“I imagine. So how’s life on holy ground without being a priest or monk?”

Nick smiled. “Cuts down on the number of people who attack you without saying hello, without all the hassle of religion. Plus, Amanda and I went through and wired the entire place for security. On the other hand, we’ve become the neutral meeting ground for a number of immortals. I think I’ve served most of the immortals in Paris a time or two. You, however, I know I haven’t met before.” He sounded content with his current life, as if he enjoyed running the bar. “Which, I must admit, I’m glad for; I probably wouldn’t have had this opportunity to talk to you alone.” He met her gaze while he reached for her hand, stroking it briefly. She shivered at the contact.

Seeing her glass was half empty, he filled it. “So what do you do when you’re not trying to get a hold of Amanda?”

She smiled. “Make pottery, translate books, whatever strikes my fancy and keeps me independent. This time I decided to invest in a few clothing stores, and so I go on buying trips to stock them. I generally try not to attract too much attention.” She wasn’t usually inclined to flirt with someone she’d just met, but Nick’s candor and quick wit made it easy. She could see why Amanda had found him compelling. Still, she took a sip of wine to swallow the sudden rise of nerves. “Actually, I’m supposed to go a trunk show this Saturday. Would you like to go with me? I could use a different point of view.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer Amanda’s?” He seemed surprised by the invitation.

“Amanda would spend the time trying to figure out how much of it she can acquire for free.” Ceirdwyn looked at Nick, suddenly unsure of his availability. “Or are you still involved with her?”

Nick snorted. “We do better as friends and business partners. Took me a while to figure that out, mind, but no, we haven’t been lovers in years.” He reached for Ceirdwyn’s hand again and covered it with his own. Looking directly at her, he asked half-jokingly, “Are you looking for a lover in all the wrong places?”

“Probably,” she admitted, turning her hand so that they were now holding hands. She decided she liked the way his hand felt against hers. It had been decades since she’d taken another immortal as a lover, and far too long in general since she’d taken a lover, period, and the possibility of doing so again sent a quick thrill through her. “My husband died eleven years ago, and I keep looking for someone like him.” She laughed softly. “Or at least, someone who won’t run when the going gets rough.”

“So what was your husband like?” Nick didn’t let go of her hand as he continued to hold eye contact. His fingers gently stroked the palm, sending little shivers of desire through her. It took her a moment longer than she would have liked to remember what Nick’s question was.

“Steven was young, ambitious, talented, and impulsive where I was practical. He was a programmer for an international company, up for a promotion that would take him to Madrid. The night he was murdered, we were arguing. I didn’t want to leave Paris for Madrid.  When he went to go get the car, he was mugged and shot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuinely regretful.

Ceirdwyn exhaled and drank some more wine. “Sixteen years we’d been together. Steven knew what I was, but in Paris…well, everyone seems to go looking for people other than me, most of the time. Madrid… I didn’t feel safe in Madrid, hadn’t since they hung me as a witch.”

“When was that?” Nick asked carefully, as if he’d learned that talking about something in an immortal’s past could still have resonance years later.

She chuckled softly, appreciating his concern. “A few centuries ago, long enough for bygones to be bygones. After Steven died, I spent a year trying to prove to myself that I could keep going in Paris. I gave up and moved to Venice. It was past time I got out of Paris for a while anyway.” She paused. “Ever been married?”

“Once. Her name was Lauren. She couldn’t handle being a cop’s wife, wondering when she’d find out I’d been wounded or killed in the line of duty, so we divorced. She was an attorney. Had her arguments all lined up, all the statistics, and she was stubborn once she got an idea in her head. There was nothing I could say to change her mind. I didn’t like her decision, but I respected her for it.” He half-chuckled as he looked away into that memory, shaking his head slightly. He brought his gaze back to Ceirdwyn as he took a sip of wine. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about stubborn people?”

She smiled. “I’ve been accused of being one of them a time or two.”

He saluted her with his wine. “That makes two of us. Anyway, Lauren showed up in Paris a few months after I moved here with Amanda. Lauren and I were getting along so well, and I… well, she wasn’t Amanda, and I fell for Lauren all over again.” Regret colored his voice as he continued, “Then she got killed by Julian Heller, just because he thought she’d found something she shouldn’t have. I…shot him, then took his head with his own sword, gave the Quickening to Amanda almost by accident. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that. I was just… so angry. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that feeling, given what happened to your husband.”

Ceirdwyn made a rueful face. “You can say that. I didn’t wait around for the wheels of justice to spin when it came to my husband’s killers.”

Nick nodded. “Then you do know.” He sighed. “Revenge is such an empty comfort.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “What made you do it?”

“I just thought Lauren had so much to live for, and I was sick of everyone I knew dying on me. Amanda was mad at me for days afterward; the Quickening wasn’t one she’d been expecting, and getting it the way she had didn’t sit well.”

“You weren’t immortal yet?”

Nick shook his head. “No. I take it this is news to you?”

“I heard through the grapevine that Julian Heller was dead. I didn’t know who took his head. Good riddance, too.”

“You’re not sorry he’s gone.” Nick seemed surprised.

“No, why should I be? I’m not a headhunter, Nick, but there are those of us who truly are evil. He was one of them.” Ceirdwyn leaned forward to make her point. “Sooner or later, someone was going to have to deal with him for who he was, but in my mind, he was listed as ‘deal with later.’ I had Steven to worry about, then I spent a long time grieving, and by the time I decided to rejoin the living, Julian’s death was old news.”

“Can you actually live a peaceful life and still be in the Game? Living here and running this bar, I don’t see the way other people live, just the way they are when they’re here. It’s like being a cop – you see people only in limited situations. I often wonder how other people do it.”

“I’m not a trouble-magnet. Stay too long around one of the MacLeods, or Amanda, and trouble will find you soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Nick admitted. “Being around Amanda’s mostly what I know, and trouble seems to find its way to this bar all on its own. Makes me glad some nights that it’s been consecrated.”

“Then have dinner with me tonight,” Ceirdwyn invited. “Or just come to the show on Saturday; spend some time away from here where you’re not dreaming up your next alibi, or dealing with trouble looking to roost.” Suddenly, the prospect of leaving Nick’s company and spending the rest of the evening alone seemed entirely too lonely. Oh, sure, there were old friends she could visit, but she didn’t want to talk about the same old things. She wanted conversation with someone new, someone who didn’t yet know her well, someone who was making her feel a little more alive than she had than when she’d walked into the bar, someone who didn’t need explanations or lies about why she wore a sword as casually as most women wore bras. Nick fit the bill.

“Let me check with Philippe, see if he can show up a bit earlier. Otherwise, I’ll have to be here to oversee things until he shows. Excuse me a moment, I need to make a call.”

He kissed her hand before he rose from the table to use the phone at the bar. Ceirdwyn heard him speak to Philippe in rapid French, asking if he could arrive early and stay late. It took some cajoling along with a reminder that Nick had covered for Philippe last week when Philippe’s boyfriend came to town before Nick got a satisfactory answer.

Nick hung up the phone, shaking his head as he made his way back to their table. “He’s on his way. Philippe loves working here, but he thinks that he can charm me into letting him not work. He forgets that I’m a) straight, and b) his manager.”

Ceirdwyn laughed. “Isn’t that the French way, to not want to work?”

“Yes, but he also forgets that I know that,” Nick replied as he sat down. “He still thinks I’m American and don’t know what’s going on. I worked on a tanker as deckhand after I quit college, fought a few fights as a boxer in Marseilles, and being around Amanda’s been an education in itself.”

“Is that why your French is so fluent?

“Yes. Working on the tanker, I also picked up some Russian, and Amanda’s been helping me learn more. Surprises the hell out of some folks who come in here, thinking I don’t know what they’re saying.” He grinned. “One night, some guy comes in looking for a Richie Ryan, says Ryan killed his buddy. Got a heavy Russian accent, can’t speak a word of French, barely can speak English, so he gets ignored by the wait staff. He’s cussing up a storm when Philippe calls me over, tells me I need to talk to this guy.”

“And?” Ceirdwyn asked, intrigued. She sipped wine as Nick took hold of her free hand, holding it loosely.

“I walk over. He’s this big hulk of a guy, one that would use his strength to his advantage in a fight, and then I feel his buzz.  He feels me before he sees me, and the first thing he says is, ‘Richie Ryan. I am Vladimir Ilystoff. You die now.’

“I laugh, of course, because the only Richie Ryan I’d ever heard of died in a motorcycle crash before I ever moved to Paris. ‘You’ve got the wrong guy, Vladimir. If you’re thinking of who I’m thinking, you’re too late, he’s already dead.’

“He stares at me, can’t believe I can speak Russian. Then he says, ‘This bar is holy ground, how can that be?’

“So I tell him, ‘Dionysus was the god of wine. This club was named after him before my partner and I bought it.’

“He stares at me a long moment, then roars, ‘Bring me some vodka! We will toast! Death to the one who killed my brother! Long shall he be dead!’” Nick chuckled now, clearly amused by the tale. “ Vladimir got stinking drunk, had to be dragged out by the bouncers. He never came back, but every now and then we get a few, shall we say, Russian businessmen who tend to come armed and are less interested in dancing than their female partners are.”

“I can imagine,” Ceirdwyn said. She would have been more surprised if a club partly owned by Amanda didn’t attract a criminal element. Flirtatiously, she asked, “Do you dance?”

In reply, Nick stood and gestured to the dance floor.  “Would Madame care to dance?”

Ceirdwyn laughed at his exaggerated accent, but rose to her feet anyway and took his hand.  The jazz was a slow, melancholy number she didn’t recognize, but it suited her mood.  To her surprise, Nick was a strong, confident, knowledgeable dance partner.  Time flew by as she enjoyed the sheer pleasure of dancing with someone who knew what he was doing, and who didn’t question the presence of a sword down the back of her shirt.

How long had it been, she wondered, since she’d let herself just enjoy something like this? Before Steven, certainly. He hadn’t been that great a dancer, though he’d loved to see her dance, and had tried to learn for her sake. She’d eventually tired of his two left feet, and both of them had stopped trying.

Nick held her respectfully close. She could feel his restraint in the way he didn’t move in any farther, and somehow, that made the distance between them all the more tantalizing. Centuries of flirting told Ceirdwyn that he desired her, yet didn’t want to ask for more than she was willing to give. She stepped closer, took a deep breath, and stared deep into his green eyes before she leaned in —

The feel of another immortal broke her concentration, and she froze seconds before Nick did. 

“Amanda’s back,” he whispered.  “I’d recognize her anywhere.” A heartbeat later, the telltale click of high heels on hardwood resounded.

“Nick, darling, I’m back, did you miss me?” Amanda called, her voice echoing through the entryway.

“She always had damnable timing,” Ceirdwyn muttered, frustrated. She’d been enjoying herself, blast it. Though she’d never been able to tell one immortal apart from another, she’d known many who’d sworn that the longer one spent in the company of another, the more likely one was to recognize that immortal’s buzz out of a crowd.

Nick chuckled and pulled Ceirdwyn closer.  “Then let’s not let her stop us now.” He kissed her tenderly but thoroughly, as if completely unconcerned that his former lover – or anyone else —was about to walk in.

Some time later, Amanda cleared her throat.  “I thought I told you not to get too friendly with the customers, Nick,” she said, a little testily.

Nick ignored her, drawing out the kiss a bit longer before ending it with a smile aimed at Ceirdwyn. Holding Ceirdwyn loosely, he turned to face Amanda.  “Everything go okay with your visit with Duncan?”

Amanda ignored Nick’s question.  “Ceirdwyn, you look lovely as ever.  I didn’t know you knew Nick so well.”

_Jealous and possessive, Amanda? That’s not like you_, Ceirdwyn thought, puzzled.  _Then again, Nick did say that he and Amanda had been crazy about each other. _“No, we just met this afternoon. Is that a…problem for you, Amanda?”

Amanda stared at Ceirdwyn.  For a moment, the older woman saw a hint of worry mingled with protectiveness flash across Amanda’s normal poker face before the brunette composed herself. “No, of course not,” Amanda said, a trifle unconvincingly. “But, Nick, the bar is open for business. Shouldn’t you flirt on your own time?”

Nick chuckled. “Amanda, my dear, when have business hours ever stopped you from flirting? Besides, you’ve never minded me being with anyone else before. Are you objecting to Ceirdwyn?”

“No, of course not,” Amanda said, as if that hadn’t been even a consideration. “Ceirdwyn and I are friends.” She peered at Ceirdwyn, suddenly unsure. “Aren’t we?”

Ceirdwyn chuckled. “Well, for a moment there, Amanda, you made me wonder,” she responded, and was rewarded with a sheepish look.

“So if it’s not Ceirdwyn you have a problem with,” Nick summarized, “then it’s something else. Did you have a fight with Duncan?”

Amanda blew out a breath, clearly piqued. “It didn’t go the way I’d hoped,” she said.  “Anne and Mary are visiting. He didn’t tell me that he wanted me to meet them. I showed up, and Mary was sweet, children tend to be, but her mother —well, I said something, and Duncan ordered me to leave. He’s never done that before.”

“What, in a couple of decades?” Nick ignored Amanda’s narrowed gaze. “And you thought I’d be available for your comfort?”

“Well, no, but you’ve never… I mean, you don’t usually have a…”

“Girlfriend? Life outside of the bar that doesn’t revolve around acting as your lookout or making sure I have a solid alibi for however long you need?” Nick let go of Ceirdwyn and faced the other woman.

His words startled Ceirdwyn, and from the way Amanda’s eyes narrowed, Ceirdwyn could tell that Amanda wasn’t happy with them, either.

“Nick, darling, I wouldn’t use you like that, you know—”

Nick stared at her, arms crossed. “Like you haven’t since I moved back to Paris? Do you want me to list all the jobs you wouldn’t have pulled if I hadn’t been there to winch your ass back up? Or provide your alibi?”

“You didn’t seem to mind helping me,” she said, pouting and looking at Nick with puppy-dog eyes. Ceirdwyn watched the exchange with interest, wondering if Nick was immune to Amanda’s wiles. “I thought we’re partners.”

“Partners, yes. But I swear to God, Amanda, some days, you take too much for granted.” Nick shook his head, his expression clearly indicating he was tired of Amanda’s assumptions. He sounded irritated as he added, “I’m sorry you had words with Anne – she’s a bitch, and if I’d known you were meeting her, I’d have warned you – and that you didn’t get laid this afternoon like you wanted, but I don’t know Ceirdwyn well enough to know whether she’d share.”

Amanda looked at her old friend hopefully, and Ceirdwyn chuckled, remembering how they’d once shared Duncan. “Sorry, Amanda, but not this time.”

“But it would be—” Amanda tried for charming, and fell horribly short into grasping at straws.

“Don’t be rude, Amanda, you know the man, I don’t. Give me a chance to get to know him first. Besides, if you want to use someone, go hire a prostitute.”

“Ceirdwyn, I can’t believe you’d suggest—”

Ceirdwyn looked at her. “What, this would be the first time you’ve ever hired anyone for your pleasure? Come on, we both know better than that.”

“Oh, fine,” Amanda said disgustedly.  “Nick, are you sure you don’t want—”

“Don’t go there.  We’ll talk more later about assumptions regarding me, Amanda.” In a kinder voice, he asked, “Would you mind seeing if Philippe is here?”

“He is. I’ll – I’ll get him.” Taking the excuse Nick offered, Amanda stomped off towards the back door.

“You have quite the relationship with Amanda,” Ceirdwyn observed quietly as Nick took a step back to where she stood. “Are you two fighting with each other?”

Nick blew out an exasperated breath. “She and I need to sit down and talk about a few things, but I wouldn’t say that we’re fighting. She tends to assume that I’m available when we’ve both agreed we’re not having sex with each other anymore. My fault as much as hers; I probably haven’t said no nearly as much as I should.” He smiled sheepishly at Ceirdwyn. “She’s hard to say no to sometimes, and I get annoyed when she pushes.”

Ceirdwyn hugged him. “Yes, well, Amanda wouldn’t be Amanda if she wasn’t annoying someone. She’s usually better at figuring out just how far to push, too.”

Nick laughed. “True. I just seem to get the brunt of her irritation some days.” He shook his head. “Sorry you had to deal with it, too.” He kissed her in apology.

She waved off the apology, but accepted the kiss. “Who are Anne and Mary?”

“Mary is Anne’s daughter and Duncan’s godchild,” Nick answered. “I met Anne last year when she and Duncan stopped by the bar, looking for Amanda.  Amanda was out of town. Anne and I had a long talk while Duncan was off with some punk who’d showed up, discussing the merits of not fighting on holy ground. She thought I wasn’t immortal, so I let her think that, long enough to find out she doesn’t like us much, sees us as murderers and thieves and con artists. She apparently makes an exception for Duncan, though.”

“Lovely.” Ceirdwyn made a mental note to find out Duncan’s side of the story, soon. Somehow, she didn’t think what Duncan would tell her was going to improve her opinion of Anne much. He always did have a way of looking for what he wanted to see in people, and overlooking the rest. “Amanda didn’t think Anne would be there this afternoon, did she?”

Nick shook his head and led Ceirdwyn back to the table where they’d left their wine. “If you got a call from Duncan MacLeod, would you expect company?”

Ceirdwyn laughed softly.  “No, but I wouldn’t put it past him, either.  Then again, I’ve fought side by side with him, where Amanda hasn’t.  She’s mostly seen him when he’s been at peace.”

The ex-cop looked surprised by this piece of information. “That would explain why she seems to think he’ll do anything for her,” he agreed.  “I think she forgets that he has another side to him. He plays a mean game of chess. More wine?”

“No, thanks.  It was a lovely wine. Local?”

“One of Amanda’s old investments.  Nothing quite like a centuries-old winery, is there?”

“So long as you’re not the one crushing the grapes,” Ceirdwyn confirmed.

Just then, Philippe, a pale-skinned, blondish-brown haired, twenty-something dressed in black pants and a red polo shirt emblazoned with the club’s logo, sashayed into the room.  “Mr. Wolfe, you requested me?” he asked in French as he fiddled with his lone diamond stud earring.  Ceirdwyn caught sight of a circular tattoo on his wrist, but before she could identify it further, he put his hand down. A thin silver chain hung around his neck, the cross pendant strategically placed just above the open vee of his shirt.

“The house is yours to manage,” Nick told him in the same language.  “Please do not call me unless the place is burning down. Amanda may or may not be available this evening.  You’ll have to check with her.”

“Anything else, sir?” Philippe asked.

“Please leave the chess game in progress. I will be finishing that up with one of our guests tomorrow.”

Philippe’s face fell. “You mean I can’t play it tonight? You live to ruin my fun,” he mock-complained. “I’ll put the pieces back, I swear.”

Nick chuckled. “Last time you tried to do that, you messed up the game entirely,” he reminded Philippe gently.

Philippe sighed, reluctantly accepting the rebuke. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“No. Thank you for coming in early,” Nick said graciously.

“Not a problem, sir,” Philippe said as he headed behind the bar. “Have a good evening.”

“Absolutely,” Nick told him.  Turning to Ceirdwyn, Nick said in English, “So where would you like to go, my dear lady?”

She smiled. “I know just the place.”

“Give me just a second.” He headed behind the bar and ducked down beneath it for a moment.  He came back up wearing a broadsword in a cross-draw sheath across his back and tucking a gun in a side holster. Philippe didn’t blink at the sword or the gun, which told Ceirdwyn he’d seen it before. That impression was reinforced when Philippe handed Nick a black leather motorcycle jacket from a corner of the bar and helped Nick into it.

“Assistant manager and personal valet, Nick?” Ceirdwyn teased. She liked the way the jacket looked on Nick. Black leather suited him.

“He’s paid enough to keep secrets well,” Nick replied, grinning. “He can help me with my coat from time to time.”

“I see why you keep him around,” Ceirdwyn told Nick as she put on her coat. “Have a good evening, Philippe.”

“And you, too, Madame.” So saying, Philippe busied himself with a checklist.

Nick led the way to the door.  Once outside, he asked, “So, is where we’re headed within walking distance, or shall we grab a taxi and not brave the cold February wind?”

“Taxi. Ever been to Café du Lune Bleue?”

“Not often, but yes, I have. I love their stuffed prawns.”

“I’ve been missing them myself.” So saying, she hailed a cab.

Dinner went better than Ceirdwyn had hoped it would. She discovered that Nick was well read, with a passion for mythology and legends, and she enjoyed setting him straight on some history. He, in turn, promised to introduce her to some of the American TV shows he loved, and to take her to a hockey game so they could enjoy their favorite sport together. They talked about some of the cases he’d worked as a police officer, and she talked about working as an English translator for tourists in Venice. Through it all, Ceirdwyn found her attraction to Nick growing, and loved how well they were getting along. She wanted to do all the things they’d talked about, and she was looking forward to the rest of the evening. From the way Nick had talked and acted throughout dinner, she could tell that Nick was as interested in her as she was in him.

After dinner, they stepped out of the café into an alley, intent on reaching the street where they could hail a cab, when both of them felt and saw two male immortals approach. One appeared to be Pakistani, with the distinctive dark coloring and slender build of his race, while the other was African and stockier, with a bodybuilder’s arms.

“It is a fine day to die,” the African called to them, closing the distance until they were a sword’s lunge apart. They seemed eager for action and hot for the Game.

“Doesn’t anyone ever come up with something original?” Nick wondered.

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes they don’t say anything, just try to stab you in the back.” So saying, she turned, pulling out the short blade from the sleeve of she kept hidden in her coat, and deflected an attack from a third immortal, a black female dressed in a dark wool coat. She heard Nick’s gun fire two rounds, and heard a startled cry in what sounded like Hindi, the tone clearly cursing him.

Ceirdwyn heard a body strike pavement and deduced that Nick must’ve taken care of one of their attackers. Silently, she thanked him, but before she could say the words aloud, she heard him say, “We don’t have to do this.”

“It is what we were born to do,” was the African’s reply.

Then her attention was all on the female immortal. The alley was long and narrow – just wide enough that a subcompact car could have fit through it, but it ran the full length of two city blocks. Ceirdwyn quickly found that she and Nick were nearly fighting back to back.  There was almost no room for her to draw her long sword, but she managed it anyway by kicking garbage in her opponent’s face, forcing her opponent to back up farther down the alley; Ceirdwyn needed the longer reach to counter the female’s attempt at getting in closer. She also wanted the distance to make sure that her fight didn’t accidentally spill over into Nick’s. Parrying the woman’s attacks, Ceirdwyn kept moving the fight farther, until she was at least fifty feet away.

It didn’t take long for Ceirdwyn to bring her opponent to her knees. In fact, it was like winning at chess in four moves; the counters to what the other immortal tried to use were so ingrained, Ceirdwyn was almost bored. “You don’t have to lose your head,” she told the woman.

“Do it, bitch, or don’t,” the woman snarled. “You won.”

Ceirdwyn sighed. She hated winning like this; somehow, it felt cheap. Still, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the killing stroke and the Quickening. Abruptly, she remembered the danger of taking a Quickening in close proximity to another Quickening. Out of the corner of her eye, she risked a quick glance, and saw only the back of Nick’s head towards her.

“Nick, don’t take his head yet!” she called.

“Got it,” he said, sounding like he was straining at something.

Trusting his words, Ceirdwyn took her opponent’s head. Brief though it was, the Quickening tasted of the woman’s rage at losing so soon in her young life. Ceirdwyn breathed deep, cleansing herself of that lingering emotion.

Then she turned to see how Nick was doing. He too, apparently, had moved farther down the alley, closer to the dumpster. What stopped Ceirdwyn’s heart momentarily was the fact that the African’s slightly curved sword was nearly caught in the crosspiece of Nick’s sword.

Nick’s arms were braced, trying to keep the African’s blade from descending. He seemed to be favoring his right knee, and the African was pressing the advantage, trying to force Nick to put weight on that damaged joint. It looked as though the African was using a single-hand sword, relying strictly on the strength of his muscular right arm. Instinctively, Ceirdwyn thought of ways to release the blade, to win the fight, but she kept quiet. Now was not the time for the running fight commentary she suddenly, desperately wanted to give.

Ceirdwyn held her breath, not sure of Nick’s skill or how long he was going to be able to withstand the assault. She certainly didn’t relish the idea of going up against such a muscle-bound opponent, but she knew she would, if Nick fell.

_Damn it, I hope whoever taught you to use that sword taught you well, because I don’t want to have to tell Amanda you’re dead. I was enjoying your company, damn it!_

Then Nick shifted his right leg to his right side, just enough to let him pivot and take his body off the line of the African's attack. In the process, Nick let the African overpower his blade, ending up with Nick's sword upside down along his left side, and the African's blade sliding down it towards the ground. The African realized that Nick was stepping back onto his injured leg and moved forward to keep the downward pressure.

Nick took advantage of his momentary preoccupation to smash an elbow into the African's face, sword cutting a long shallow gash across the man's chest as he did.  For half a second the African looked stunned, as if he hadn't thought Nick had any attacks available to him and had considered the fight already his for the taking.  In that time, Nick finished the other half of the figure eight he'd been drawing, and the African's head flew back against the alley wall.

Aware they’d started out with three opponents, Ceirdwyn watched to make sure the last challenger didn’t return. She wasn’t surprised when she saw him creep up as Nick knelt, hands braced on his thighs, head facing towards the ground, apparently deep in the throes of post-Quickening shock. She swore, knowing she wasn’t going to get there fast enough to stop the stranger from getting a blade near Nick, but ran towards him anyway. Suddenly, a hundred feet felt like an eternity. Before she could get there, however, Nick surprised her.

The Pakistani was close enough that Ceirdwyn thought Nick was going to be dead. Then, in a motion Ceirdwyn knew took skill and timing, Nick swung his sword as he came to his feet. The Pakistani lost his hands and his sword, and screamed as the shock hit. Nick didn’t pause, but took the Pakistani’s head in another deadly figure eight motion.

Nick roared as the Quickening hit him. It lifted him into the air, and he hung there for what seemed like minutes as lightning lit the alley before the storm dropped him, hard, to the ground. He lay there, panting, and Ceirdwyn approached him warily. Hard-won experience told her that approaching another immortal in the wake of a Quickening was best done with extreme caution.

“Are you all right?”

Nick exhaled heavily and sat up. “Mr. I-Think-I’m-Sneaky-Bastard tried to take over. I told him to fuck off and finish dying.” He inspected his sword and wiped it casually off on the late Pakistani’s clothing before putting it away.  Rising, he went over to the African to take one final look at his opponent, limping slightly.

“Damn, I thought he had strong arms. They’re huge! Thank God I lift weights. Stupid idiot never fought a southpaw, though he got me pretty good on my knee. Guess that’s what I get for kicking him. It’s the one I blew out back in college, too. Damn, I hate that; that’s going to take a few minutes to heal.” He leaned over and kissed Ceirdwyn.

“I’m Nick Wolfe from Torago, and I’m not going to forget that. Or that you and I had other pleasures in mind after dinner. Are you okay?”

“She was young. I don’t think they really trained her well. She got eager, I think. They were hunting to give her a first Quickening.” She kissed Nick back, relieved that he was alive.

“Hell of way to try to give it,” Nick observed, breaking the kiss reluctantly. “Come on, let’s clean up this mess and get out of here.” He was trembling, but Ceirdwyn attributed it to the usual post-fight shock and so didn’t think much of it.

It took a few minutes to hide the bodies in the dumpster. They did the best they could, but they knew they didn’t have that much time before the police showed up. By tacit agreement, they chose to walk a mile before they picked up a cab back to Nick’s club. By the time they reached the club, Nick had stopped limping.

Nick took them through the side entrance, up a back staircase to an unmarked elevator, and finally into his apartment. A wrought iron hall tree stood near the doorway; Ceirdwyn followed Nick’s lead in hanging her coat there. Just off the doorway on the right was the kitchen/dining area, on the left was the living room, and she could see down the hallway to a bathroom and what she guessed were two bedrooms.

“Did you want to clean your sword?” he asked her.

“No, thanks, it’ll keep for now,” she refused, managing politeness through the barest veneer of control. “Perhaps later.” She closed the distance between them and kissed him.  Right now, she couldn’t care about her sword. Fighting had energized her, doubling and redoubling the desire that had been humming through her all evening.

Nick kissed her back hungrily. Some of his arousal, Ceirdwyn knew, was Quickening-fueled, but she’d seen the look of anticipation in his eyes before they’d left the café. Somehow they made it to the bedroom, discarding clothes and hidden weapons along the way. They came together in a rush of heat, rutting like animals and driven by a post-Quickening fire that seemed to be best sated in whiskey or sex. For this moment, Ceirdwyn knew Nick didn’t care what her name was, or whether she got off more than enough to be lubricated, and she couldn’t bring herself to care about what he wanted, or what satisfaction he got, either. It had been months since she’d gotten laid. Filling that need was suddenly more important than anything else in the world. All she wanted was to feel his cock driving into her, possessing her, taking her hard and rough. He gave that in spades.

They collapsed together in a sated heap. Minutes ticked by in silence. Then Nick reached for her and kissed her gently, almost apologetically.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I needed it that way, too.” She kissed him briefly before pulling back, separating them.

He sighed, relieved. “Good. I’d hate to think I was the only one that hungry.”

“You weren’t.” She was a little nervous, but tried to not let it show. This was always the awkward moment, when the first rush of Quickening-induced passion had been sated. Hard-won experience had taught her that sometimes, this was all she would get, that whatever attraction they had for each other had been burned through. Nick looked at her, his expression suddenly wary, as though, he, too, knew that lesson.

She breathed deep and reached for him. She still wanted as much as Nick was willing to give. Lust throbbed through her, heating her blood. “I want you, Nick.”

He looked at her a long moment, then kissed her tenderly. She could feel him trying to hold back, as if the outpouring of passion at its rawest had left him scorched and he needed to pull together his defenses again, but his desire for her was too great still and all he had left was to show her how much she meant. He held nothing back in his body language, nothing in the way he praised her body and told her exactly what he wanted to do with her. He kissed her as if she was a woman worth treasuring, then explored and tasted her body as if it was the finest feast he’d ever had, and left her trembling on the edge of giving away her heart. He gave her orgasm after orgasm, as if his pleasure was tied to hers, until she begged for him to fill her, to feel his hard length inside of her, and all she could think of was the pleasure he was giving her. Ceirdwyn gasped his name as he finally slid into her and began to thrust, slowly at first, then more rapidly as their passion increased. Nick shuddered through his orgasm, and she screamed wordlessly as she, too, came.

They lay together, too exhausted to speak for several minutes. Then Nick kissed her. “I need to get up, unfortunately,” he said apologetically.

“Go ahead,” she said reluctantly.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he half-joked as he slipped out of her. She murmured her agreement as he rose and headed into the bathroom. She heard the toilet flush a few minutes later, then Nick returned to the bed to snuggle her.

“Hey, pretty lady, how are you?” he asked softly.

“Pleasantly tired,” she admitted.  It was on the tip of her tongue to mention that it had been a while since she’d been with anyone, much less taken a Quickening, but she held it back. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. Moreover, if she was honest with herself, she knew she was tempted to say too much. Over her lifetime, she’d learned that sometimes the best way to not wear her heart on her sleeve was by keeping silent.

“Did you want to stay the night?” he asked, looking at her hopefully.

Ceirdwyn smiled. “I’d like that,” she told him. “But I’m not sure if I’m up to more sex right now.”

He kissed her gently, and then pulled her closer so that she lay within his arms. “It’s okay. As tempting as you are –” and he kissed her again as she smiled at the compliment “— I’m not sure I’m up for more sex right now either. I just want to hold you. Go ahead, sleep if you want to,” he told her. “I’ll be here.”

Trusting his word, for he’d given her no cause to doubt it otherwise, and believing that he’d soon follow her in sleep, Ceirdwyn gave in to her exhaustion and slept.

Something woke her in the stillness of predawn. Ceirdwyn lay still for a moment, trying to figure out what had disturbed her. She reached a hand out to see if Nick was still in bed with her, and felt only emptiness. The room was colder than it had been when she’d fallen asleep, and she could see her breath when she breathed. For a moment, she hesitated. It was warm under the mound of bedclothes, cold where the blankets had been thrown back. For all she knew, he could be in the bathroom. Yet the lingering sense of something not quite right remained.

She took a deep breath, centering herself, and closed her eyes. She could still feel the presence of another immortal in her immediate vicinity, so either he hadn’t left or there was someone else around.

“Nick?” she called, opening her eyes. “Are you there?”

Her words found only silence.

Concerned now, she got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom. Despite knowing there was still another immortal around, the apartment felt oddly empty. Switching on the hall light, she continued into the living area. The scent of coffee drew her into the combined kitchen/dining area. She found her sword had been cleaned and sat on the dining room table. Her clothes, once scattered in the hallway, now sat in a neatly folded stack beside her sword.

Then she saw him, standing out on the balcony, watching the dawn. Shivering, wondering when she’d gotten soft enough that the cold bothered her, Ceirdwyn dressed hastily. Nick had left the sliding glass door open, so she stepped out to stand beside him. A coffee cup steamed in the cold February air as it sat on the ledge of the iron and concrete balcony wall. His hair looked damp, as if he’d taken a shower while she’d been sleeping. He wore a fleece jacket and jeans.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said, half-turning. “I’m too used to leaving the door open when I’m here by myself. I keep meaning to fix the track because it squeaks but ‑” he shrugged “‑somehow it’s the last thing on my mind by the time I get up here.”

“I imagine running a bar has you going to bed at dawn more often than not,” Ceirdwyn commented. “Lovely view up here, by the way.” She could just make out the river past one of the neighboring buildings; she hadn’t been paying that much attention to the elevator the night before to see how high up they’d gone. Some part of her reminded her that perhaps she should have been, and she firmly told that paranoid voice to shut up.

“Yeah, well, when you own the building, you can pretty much choose where you live. Amanda and I renovated everything a few years ago, but we had no choice. Some idiot set fire to the building. He was mad that he’d been kicked him out of the bar, claimed we owed him sanctuary since it’s the name of the bar. Torched it pretty good, too.”

“You weren’t here when it happened, were you?” Concerned, Ceirdwyn stepped closer.

“No, thankfully, I was out with Amanda.” He sounded relieved, but shook his head at the memory. “We came home in time to see the building explode.”

“How long did it take for you to rebuild?”

“Better part of a year. Learned a lot about construction in the process, but Amanda brought in some friends and we pretty much did it ourselves.” He shrugged at the flat recital of the facts, but didn’t move any closer towards her. For a moment, Ceirdwyn wondered if this was the beginning of the stereotypical awkward morning-after. Silently, she promised herself that she wasn’t going to have that if she could find a way. After last night, she wanted to spend more time with Nick, and she wasn’t planning on leaving without a good fight.

“That’s pretty much the way to get it done,” Ceirdwyn agreed. Then she took another look at him and reviewed how toneless his voice had sounded. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s why you’re out here.  Can’t sleep?”

“Never can, really, after a Quickening.” He shrugged, clearly resigned to dealing with it the only way he knew how.

Ceirdwyn reached to hold him and realized he was trembling. “You should get back inside; it’s freezing out here.”

He laughed sourly. “I’m not shaking from the cold, Ceirdwyn. I don’t know how it is for you, but me?” He looked at her now, clearly troubled, and her breath caught at the sight of such pain in his face. “Me, I spend the next two days feeling like I’m a junkie recovering from the best high I’ve ever had.” He looked down and away. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen anyone like that.”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

Nick blew out a breath. “Amanda always avoids the question when I ask her,” he told her. He started to reach for the coffee, but watched his hand tremble just enough, sighed, and left the cup sit where it was. “My teacher just said I had to learn to deal with it, that it didn’t matter as long as I knew that was how it would be for me. It would be nice if I got a straight answer.”

“Most of the ones I’ve known who got high off a Quickening were headhunters,” Ceirdwyn admitted. “It seems to be one of the reasons they turn into headhunters.” _Damn it, I like him. I don’t want to think he is one._ Then a thought occurred to her: what if he’d learned this from a headhunter? “Who was your teacher?”

“Connor MacLeod.”

“Who is known to occasionally hunt heads, but none that didn’t deserve to be hunted. You’ll have to tell me someday how you convinced him to take you on as a student; he doesn’t usually.”

Nick shrugged, as if he didn’t mind telling her. “I had a headhunter using me as a play toy. For once, I got lucky, and Connor had unfinished business with her.”

“Then you did indeed get lucky,” Ceirdwyn said briskly, reassured. “I have one more question. Are you trying to win the Game, Nick?”

“No.” Nick stood there, his body faintly, but visibly, vibrating. His hands gripped the wall as if it was his only anchor, but he didn’t move away from Ceirdwyn. “I don’t care who wins this damned game we play, because I don’t think I’ll be alive to see it. There are far too many stronger immortals than me, and I suspect on even a bad day you could take my head without breaking a sweat. But right now, feeling like this? All I can think about is how I can get my next fix, and it drives me nuts. Connor taught me to control this, to keep it inside so I don’t go hunting and become a murderer for the sake of a Quickening. Last night, taking two heads in a row, pushed me beyond what I’m used to coping with, and I…I want to taste that power again, to live that rush. I believed in the law, Ceirdwyn. It was my life until Amanda ripped it all apart.”

“So why do you stay where she is?”

Nick looked at her and then closed his eyes briefly. “I tried living away from her. I…well, let’s just say I feel safer knowing where she is, and she feels safer knowing I’m here,” he admitted. “Some times, when I’m like this, we’ll go find something to acquire, because the adrenaline rush is almost as good as taking a head.”

“I have a better idea,” Ceirdwyn suggested. She removed his left hand from the wall and turned Nick to face her. Leaning in, she kissed him.

He didn’t return it. “Sex didn’t help,” he said flatly.

“Once isn’t enough for this,” she said firmly.

Now a small smile played at the edges of his mouth. “Were you not awake for the second time last night?”

She laughed. “Yes, I was. What you need is more, Nick. I’m willing. I’m not going to break.” She kissed him again. “Mind you, there are rules I’ll break, but I’m not a thief.” She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his nose, then his mouth, before pulling back and looking at him squarely. “I really don’t think I’m asking for anything you don’t want to give.”

Nick crossed his arms, visibly pulling into himself and away from her. “You say that now. When do I get to see the fine print?” He sounded bitter.

“I’m not Amanda,” Ceirdwyn replied coldly. “I don’t use my friends for convenient alibis.” She reached for his right forearm and tugged on it.  He resisted the movement, and she let her hand fall.

“So what do you use your friends for?”

“I don’t use my friends.” She watched him, trying to read his body language as he held himself away. “I didn’t grow up learning the way to live was to steal what you can to survive as Amanda did. Before I died in battle, I spent half my life fighting the Romans trying to conquer my tribe, and the other half farming and making pottery and doing what I could to help my tribe. I’ve lived a thousand years not needing anyone to get by – and yes, there were a few centuries where not having a man around raised more than its share of eyebrows, but I’m still here and they’re not.”

“So why would you even want me?” Nick said almost despairingly.

“Because I like you, Nick. You’re quick-witted, honest, determined, sexy, intriguing, and you handle yourself well in a fight. Can’t say I’d ever been more glad that my companion carried a gun than I was last night; taking on all three of those idiots at once when I didn’t know your skill wasn’t something I wanted to do. You taking out one of them meant that I could concentrate on one less enemy, so thank you.”

He laughed shortly. “I was half-afraid you’d accuse me of cheating, but I figured we’d both have to be alive to hear you say it if that was the case.”

“The way I figure it, you were just evening the odds. They didn’t mean to play fair, either.” She took a deep breath and closed the distance between them.

“Nick, I’d like to find out where you and I go from here, if we stay friends or something more or if this is all we have,” she said quietly but urgently. “But right now, what I want is to get you warm and get that need sated. We can talk about it later as much as you need, but I know what it’s like to have that adrenaline shooting through you. Will you let me help you?” She reached out to him again.

He started to nod, then swallowed and found his voice. “I’d like that.” He turned away from the wall, stepped into her embrace, and kissed her fiercely, pouring all of his energy into passion.

Ceirdwyn kissed him back just as fiercely. Desire rose to do battle with Nick’s post-Quickening need. They made love in the frigid air, undressing just enough to get the job done, then laughing as the cold – and their very public view – finally registered and they ran inside to get warm.

Once inside, the sex was slower, but no less passionate. Now Nick was trembling for reasons other than a Quickening as Ceirdwyn kissed him all over, tasting, licking, occasionally biting his skin. Without warning, she licked under his balls, and Nick moaned.

She smiled, and then went lower with her tongue. For a long, wordless moment, Nick froze and so did she. Experimentally, she licked him again and used her left hand to stroke his cock.

Nick gasped. “God! Do that again.”

She felt his cock harden even more as she did as Nick requested. He moaned as she increased her rhythm, and he started to thrust into her hand as she rimmed him. His body tensed, but she didn’t stop until he came, harder than he had any previous time. Turned on by her own actions, Ceirdwyn shuddered through her release a heartbeat afterwards.

She crawled up the bed to lie beside Nick. “Better now?” she asked lazily as she draped her right arm across his chest. His left hand rose to press her arm lightly, but he didn’t let go.

He turned his head to look at her. “Ask me in a few minutes, when I’ve found my brain again.”

She chuckled softly. After a short silence, she asked, “I take it you haven’t had that before?”

“Amanda taught me to enjoy that and then some,” he admitted. “It’s just…I wasn’t expecting you to.” Chuckling, he added, “I suppose that’s what I get for thinking I knew what you'd do yet.”

Ceirdwyn smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied.

Nick kissed her gently. “I take back what I said about sex not helping.” He kissed her again. “Thank you.”

She smiled again. “My pleasure. So, did you want more, or shall we shower and see about breakfast?”

Nick’s eyes gleamed as he grinned. “I could answer that with a smart-ass reply, _chéri_,” he warned her.  “You did say you wanted to help.” Before she could respond, he kissed her again and then said, “But yes, I’d like to take a shower and get breakfast.”

“Then let’s get going,” Ceirdwyn suggested.

Just as they emerged from the shower, they heard something start to play a Barry Manilow song. Nick swore.

“Cell phone,” he explained. “Amanda.” He grabbed a towel and hastily dried off.

“That would explain why you chose that song.” She watched Nick tuck the towel around his waist as he strode out of the bathroom to the oak nightstand, where a thin flip phone sat, vibrating madly against the wood as it continued to play “Mandy.”

Rather than eavesdrop, Ceirdwyn busied herself with towel-drying her long hair. She replaced the fluffy towel on the rack on the clear glass shower door and had enough time to borrow Nick’s comb to comb out the tangles in her hair and braid it back before Nick hung up the phone, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He chuckled. “Nothing, just Amanda wondering if we wanted to join her for breakfast.”

Something about the glint in his eyes made Ceirdwyn pause. “And are we?”

“Only if you want to participate in her alibi for the morning,” he told her. “Mind you, I could be wrong. She may actually just want to have breakfast, but given her mood last night…she probably went ‘shopping’ at the Louvre to cheer herself up.”

“Then no, I don’t.” Ceirdwyn kissed him deeply. “I say we head over to my place, maybe pick up some croissants and cheese along the way, and be somewhere the police don’t expect you to be. Just because we’re here doesn’t mean Amanda can use us – and I’m going to have a talk with her about that, later.”

Now Nick grinned. “I’d like to watch you have that conversation – maybe you can teach me a few things. Have I mentioned I like the way you think?”

Ceirdwyn just smiled and kissed him again. “So how long do we have?”

Nick told her, and they were out of his apartment with a minute to spare, sitting on a bus that would take them across town to where Ceirdwyn lived. Ceirdwyn didn’t start laughing until they were a mile away and off the bus.

“What’s so funny?” He stopped walking and turned to stare at her, his expression amused.

She chuckled as she closed the arm’s length distance between them. “I haven’t had that much fun in twenty-four hours since…oh, too damn long.”

Some of the light went out of Nick’s eyes as he absorbed her words. His smile disappeared and then he said earnestly, “Then I think it’s my sacred duty to make sure you have fun.”

She sobered. He sounded so serious. “Perhaps you should, but I don’t think you need to worry about sacred anything. Well, other than the bar.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss. “Of course,” he said. “I never said I was a priest, Ceirdwyn. Although there was the one time I dressed as a priest to bring in a bounty.” He paused and looked at her. “I’d like to promise you that my life isn’t as crazy as the last twenty-four hours, but I learned a while ago not to promise anything I can’t deliver.”

“Then don’t,” Ceirdwyn said calmly. “I’m not looking for promises, Nick. Just some company for the next while, however long that will be.”

He continued to stare at her for a long moment. Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her slowly, as if to thank her. She met his kiss and deepened it, hoping that by her actions she could convince him that she meant what she said. Finally, he ended the kiss and said more cheerfully, “If memory serves, there’s this little café just up the block.”

Ceirdwyn hid a smile as she took his arm and they began to walk again. _Life with Nick in it is going to be interesting,_ she decided. _I can deal with interesting._ _In fact, I think I’m looking forward to it for a change._ _Now I’m really glad I ran into Amanda last week. Come to think of it, I really hadn’t been – I’d been expecting her to pull me into her latest caper. I’d have done it, too, probably out of boredom if nothing else._ _Wonder if this means I have to thank Amanda for making sure Nick is still around? No, that might just make things worse. I’m not sure I want to find out how she would like to me to express my gratitude._ _The last time I did that, she almost got me killed._

Hastily, she shunted that memory aside and focused in on the moment. It was a beautiful winter morning in Paris, and she was alive, with a new lover by her side who could fight as well as he made love. For a warrior woman, that was enough to make her smile.

_Finis _

_3/20/06_


End file.
